


Pictures of You

by ladyjax



Category: Leverage
Genre: Bondage, Character of Color, I Saw Three Ships, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/pseuds/ladyjax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker and Eliot discover a little bit of Alec's past but should they dig any deeper?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pictures of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaciem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaciem/gifts).



A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalk and Parker's shoulders as she made her way through the post-holiday shopping crowds. So easy to pick a pocket here and there but since she had Eliot with her, she didn't indulge. Eliot walked beside her, his hands tucked into his pockets and his collar turned up. "Can't believe you made me come out here with you," he groused, his complaint tinged with amusement. "Don't you know it's cold out here, woman?"

"Oh phht," Parker said with a wave. "You were going crazy in the apartment and Alec wanted some alone time. Besides, you both like it that I'm dressing more…girly. And according to Sophie, the best sales are always after Christmas."

The team had taken the holidays off by mutual agreement. Nate hightailed it London to visit Sophie and Tara was off to parts unknown, which left Alec, Eliot and Parker to their own devices.

"Not that that's a bad thing," Parker thought to herself with a happy shiver, stealing a look at Eliot. Their Christmas revels had consisted of really great food, movies, and video games; Alec had browbeaten them into a few hours of World of Warcraft during which Eliot had proceeded to get himself killed within minutes of the first game. This was all interspersed with bursts of truly inventive sex, with the sex being Parker's favorite part.

Just thinking of all they'd done over the past few days gave her a sweet tingle, sort of like the one when she lifted something very valuable.

Eliot slid his arm into hers. "Stop it."

"What?"

"I can feel you thinking about something' and knowing you, it's pretty and shiny. We're on vacation."

Parker pouted at him. "I'm not thinking about that at all unless you count you and Alex on the dining room table…" Eliot held up a hand.

"Okay, okay, I get it." Then he smirked. "That does count as pretty and shiny."

"See, that's why we should go home right now and I can watch you two. You'll be stopping me from indulging in a life of crime."

Eliotlaughed out as they turned the next corner which brought them to what looked to be a group of art galleries. "Ooooh."

"Parker."

"C'mon, I'm just going to look," Parker wheedled, pulling Eliot into the first gallery. As they walked in, they were immediately caught by the tall photograph that dominated the wall facing the entry way. Shot in black and white, the subject was a young man leaning against a white wall, blind folded and bound in white rope which was a stark contrast to his ebony skin. His face was slightly turned from the camera, his head tipped back exposing his long neck. There was another man in the picture but he stood in shadow, only his pale hand could be seen, tugging lightly at the rope.

"Jesus," Eliot whispered, feeling himself harden. "Yeah, what you said," Parker replied shakily. "That's really…wow." She stepped closer; something about that picture, the way the subject held himself, was familiar. Eliot stepped up beside her, leaning over to read the accompanying information card. "Muse #3, 1999. Photographed by John Langford".

"That would be me."

The pair turned to see an older man standing off to the side with a slight smile. "Sorry to startle you. I saw you both standing there and thought I'd introduce myself."

Parker looked him up and down and knew Eliot was doing the same. Langford was at least 6 feet tall and broad shouldered. She could tell that he worked out regularly, given the way his his body shifted beneath his clothes. Pale blue eyes, strong chin and a Marine's buzz cut completed his look. "This picture," she indicated with a flick of her thumb, "It's very good."

Langford stepped around them to contemplate the photograph. "Some of my best work," he said quietly. "It's just now that I decided to put these pictures in a show." He looked at Eliot and Parker. "We don't open until tomorrow but would you like to see the rest?"

They looked at each other and Eliot shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Langford led them into the gallery proper, flicking on a few more lights as he went. "We don't open until Friday. I just came in to do a little more tweaking. Go ahead," he waved a hand, "check it out."

Parker walked slowly down one row, talking in each photograph. The model remained the same, as did the subject matter. The same young black man, bound. More often than not, he was posed alone, the ropes crisscrossing his skin in a variety of patterns. He wasn't always blindfolded but he rarely looked at the camera, preferring to look off into the distance. Another picture caught her: his back was to the camera, a silver handcuff dangling from one slim wrist. In the distance, another man, the same man who she was sure was Langford stood in shadow again, silhouetted against back lit curtains. That one was titled, "Leavetaking, 2000."

"The last picture I took with him," Langford said from behind her.

Parker looked at the picture again. "It seems sad." Langford stepped up beside her, "It was in a way. I'd worked with him for a year and we'd grown close. But he needed to go." His fingers reached out, stopping within a whisper of the picture's surface. "I needed to let him go."

Eliot walked up then and looked at Parker. "Pretty intense. Parker, we should be running' on home."

Parker shook off her melancholy and smiled at Eliot. "We should." She turned to Langford. "Thanks for showing us this."

"You're welcome." As he walked them towards the door, Langford reached over to a nearby table and picked up several gallery cards. "Come back for the opening as my guests."

Eliot nodded and briefly smiled. "We'll think on it. Thanks again."

The snow was falling heavily by the time they stepped back into the wintery night. Eliot turned up his collar and Parker pulled her scarf a little tighter around her neck. They walked in silence for a few blocks before Parker blurted out, "That's Alec. Those pictures, Eliot, that's Alec."

Eliot stopped, staring at her. "It's not him."

"It is," Parker insisted. "You know it is. Or it least it was him back then." She screwed up her face and slapped him on the arm. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Eliot growled. "I also know that the dates on those pictures means that those pictures were taken when he was 17, maybe 18 years old." He shook a finger at her. "You're not going to say a word to him about it."

"But…"

"NO!" Eliot took a deep breath and put his hands on Parker's shoulders. "Parker, there's somethings that just need to be left alone. Might be that Alec didn't want anyone to know about it. We all got stuff in our past that we don't talk about and it should stay way." He squeezed her shoulders gently. "Understand?"

Parker nodded and took his hand. "It could hurt him, couldn't it?" she said quietly.

"Maybe," Eliot replied and they walked home the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Over the course of the next day, Parker found herself watching Alec. She spent a lot of her time just watching. As a thief, it's what she did naturally. Since she'd been working with the team, she took the time to learn their habits and mannerisms. This time, however, she was searching for something different. Something indefinable.

"What is it, Parker?"

Alec's laconic voice broke her from her reverie. "Huh?"

He hadn't even turned around to look at her, his eyes glued to the computer screens as he ran a diagnostic. "Girl, I can feel your eyes boring into me. What the hell is it?"

"Um, oh, nothing." She slid down from her perch on the kitchen stool and walked over to where Alec sat on the couch. She scooted beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Uh huh." Alec turned his head to grin at her. "You know just because we're all sleeping together doesn't mean you can make goo goo eyes at me and get something."

"You don't trust me," she pouted.

"Parker, I trust Nana, God, you, Eliot, and Linux in that order. Doesn't mean that you'll get what you want. You got something to say, say it."

She knew she shouldn't. Eliot had said so and she knew better. "We saw something yesterday, me and Eliot, when we were out."

One eyebrow went up. "And?"

A heavy footfall stopped whatever she was about to say. "You just couldn't leave it, could you?" Eliot's voice was cold.

Alec pulled away from Parker and stood up. Eliot stood near the dining room table, hands on his hips, a scowl on his face. Alec looked from one to another and folded his arms. "What the hell is going on?"

Eliot reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the gallery cards and walked over to Alec. "Last night, we came across this place that had these pictures." He held out the card to Alec who took it and stared at the image on the front. "We met John Langford. Parker's pretty sure the kid in those pictures was you." Eliot paused. "I told her not to mention it."

Alec's fingers ran over the card and he sat down again. Parker scooted up next to him and Eliot took up a spot in front of him on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," she said. "If you don't want to talk about it, we'll understand."

"Nah," he said. "It's okay." He smiled gave Parker a quick hug. "I haven't thought about this in years."

"Langford," Eliot said. "What's his deal?"

"You mean, what was his deal with me." Alec said matter of factly. "First of all, I'm not ashamed of what I did. He needed a model. At the time, I needed the money." He reached out and took Eliot's hand. "I was 18, so you can rest your mind about that. I was trying to build my first real computer system. I'd been out of Nana's house for a few months and I had a part time job at a gas station but it didn't enough and Pentium chips were hella expensive. I saw an ad for models in the local paper and answered it."

Alec took a deep breath and continued. "John was, is, a really complex dude but he was honest. He told me what he wanted - bondage shots, very high class art. 'Just not sleazy like Mapplethorpe,' he said." He laughed at the memory. "Me, I was a really skinny kid, didn't think I was all that hot and I figured as long as it didn't involve sex, we'd be fine."

"He said he had to let you go," Parker said. "What did he mean?"

Alec sighed and shrugged. "We got close. I mean we didn't have sex but by the time we were done, it didn't matter. A part of me wanted to stay, wanted see what we could be together. But John was right. I needed to go and see what the world had to offer. As far as I knew he'd never published the pictures."

"Until now."

"Yeah," Alec said, looking at the card in his hand. "Until now." He looked from Eliot to Parker. "How'd you know it was me?"

Parker shrugged. "The way you were posed in some of them. You stand a little bit like that sometimes. When you're not slouching." She ran her hand over his hip and squeezed, gratified at Alec's low moan. "And then there's this spot on your right hip, sort of like a dimple. I'd recognize that anywhere."

"Dimple? What dimple?" Alec started to open his pants and Parker smacked him on the arm. "You can't really _see_ it from your vantage point, silly."

Alec looked at Eliot who held his hands open. "Don't look at me, man. I'm not looking for dimples when I'm down there."

"Why am I sleeping with you two again?" When they both gave Alec the "what, are you kidding?" look, he shook his head. "Forget I asked."

* * *

Friday night found the three of them standing outside the gallery. "We don't have to do this," Eliot said. Alec squeezed his hand. "It's cool. I want to see this with you." He turned and looked at Parker, and put his arm around her shoulder. "You too."

As they walked in, Parker said, "You know, I've got plenty of rope at home. You think we could try some of that stuff?"

"You are _not_ tying me up, Parker!"

"Oh c'mon. Eliot!"

Eliot laughed and poked Alec. "You know how she gets. Won't be satisfied until she's got you all up in knots." His voice dropped into a low sexy drawl. "I'll admit it's got some appeal."

Alec looked at both of them sternly. "We are not having this conversation now." They took offered glasses of champagne from a passing waiter just as Alec came face to face with Muse #3. "Damn," he whispered as gazed at the portrait. His skin prickled, remembering the day of that particular shoot. The blindfold let him feel everything: the ropes binding him, John's body close to his own as he completed each pass. Lips on his ear before John stepped away. "Beautiful," John had whispered.

"Hardison." Eliot's voice caught his attention.

"My God," Langford said, astonished. He took Alec's offered hand and shook it. "Alec Hardison."

"John. It's been a very long time." He nodded at Eliot and Parker. "You've already met my partners."

Langford chuckled. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, well, they're unpredictable like that. This," Alec waved a hand at the picture. "this is fantastic."

"So's the rest of it," Langford replied. "Would you like to see?"

Alec smiled. "I'd like that." He fell into step beside Langford and nodded at Eliot and Parker. "You guys coming?"

Eliot went with them but Parker hung back for one last minute looking at the picture. "Totally hot," she said to a passing art fan and followed in her lovers' wake.


End file.
